


We Can Remember it for You, Wholesale

by HYPERFocused



Category: Smallville
Genre: Angst, Drama, Established Relationship, M/M, Romance, episode-related, hurt-comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-01-20
Updated: 2004-01-20
Packaged: 2017-11-01 10:26:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,269
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/355583
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HYPERFocused/pseuds/HYPERFocused
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clark fills in the holes in Lex's life. Part of the Blow it with Feeling challenge.</p>
            </blockquote>





	We Can Remember it for You, Wholesale

## We Can Remember it for You, Wholesale

by HYPERFocused

<http://members.aol.com/hyperfocused>

* * *

Disclaimer: I don't own the boys. I'm only playing with them, but unlike Lionel, I play nicely. A/N Adapted and greatly expanded from the contrelamontre grocery list challenge: 4 men/women, 3 red objects, 2 instances of striking fashion sense, 1 violin. Spoilers for "Asylum". First in a series. Thanks to ChickenJodie for the amazing beta. As always, you cure my anxiety. For Thamiris and ACampbell's Blowing It With Feeling challenge. My emotion was "anxiety" 

* * *

"There's too much world out there," Lex says, opening his arms wide to show the expanse of Metropolis he can see from his office window at the penthouse. From this height, the people look like the characters on Pete's Sims game, and Clark wonders for a moment what it must be like to have so much control over people's lives (fictional though they may be). 

Once upon a time, that was Lex's goal, for real. Clark doesn't say anything, doesn't let on how it hurts him to see Lex so diminished. This man, who once plotted to own the world, or at least rule it, now just wants to shut it all out. 

The clothes are the same, cut and color fresh off the pages of magazines Clark cannot afford to buy, but Lex's fashionable presence is gone. He's an automaton, a doll in borrowed finery. He does not wear the clothes so much as the labels carry him. 

"I want to go someplace," Lex continues. "Someplace quiet. It was never quiet in Belle Reve. I remember that. I don't want to remember, but I do." He laughs ruefully. Of all the things he wants to recall, this surely isn't one of them. 

"I can take you somewhere quiet, if you want. Somewhere peaceful." He's got the perfect place in mind, a cabin he found once on one of his runs. It'd be a bit of a drive, but doable. He'd call ahead to make sure it was available; set it up with enough firewood and food for a few days rest. 

"I'd like that, Clark. I'll leave it up to you to make arrangements, if you don't mind. I'm just - I don't seem to have a head for making plans, these days." He hands Clark a credit card like he's not entirely sure what it's for, and says "It has your name on it too. That was a good idea, Clark." Clark hasn't seen this before, this evidence of what they were to each other spelled out in raised white letters. He puts the card in his pocket, and traces them with his fingers. He knows he won't touch a dime. 

They watch the setting sun tint the silver skyscrapers red. Clark stands next to him at the window, Lex's arm around his shoulder. He waits for Lex to run his hand down to his ass, the way he used to, but it doesn't happen. Clark wonders if Lex has really forgotten, or if this is meant to be his punishment. Nothing in the world could be worse than not having all of Lex 

Even having none of him, those months he thought Lex was dead, was oddly better. At least then he had the option of disappearing too, into the person that red kryptonite let him become. He can't do that now, not with the slim possibility of Lex's return to himself. He needs to be there as witness to his memory, as confirmation. 

"I'm so glad we're still such good friends, Clark. Nobody stuck by me like you have. I'd hate to have forgotten that." 

"Yes, Lex. We're very good friends." Clark digs his fingernails into the wood of the window until it splinters as he says this, remembering how it used to be, when he and Lex couldn't go a day without touching each other. They used to burn together like the fire from his eyes. 

The words Clark does not say taste like ashes in his mouth. 

* * *

The drive towards Missouri is uneventful, landscape a slower blur than he's used to when he runs, but still a lot of nothing. What once would have been a thrill - driving one of Lex's sports cars - is a necessity now. Lex hands him the keys as a matter of course. "What if I've forgotten the rules?" he says. 

Clark doesn't tell him he'd rarely paid attention to them anyway. He adds the comment to his collection of ways Lex has been changed. This Lex is too docile to drive over the speed limit, much less over a bridge. 

Still Jonathan Kent's son, Clark keeps pace with the domestic trucks and mid range sedans that make up most of the day's traffic. He sticks one of Lex's CDs in the stereo. A pounding beat, harsh and instrumental; Clark isn't sure who it is, but he remembers Lex playing it more than once on their drives to Metropolis before everything fell apart. It isn't exactly Clark's style, but he can picture Lex dancing to it. 

"Did I _like_ this?" Lex asks, sounding as if he'd be surprised the answer is yes. 

"You used to. Before. Do you want me to turn it off?" Clark reaches for the controls. 

"No, that's okay. It's good. I just didn't recognize it." Lex is silent after that, lying back, eyes closed. Clark can tell he's not asleep, but he lets Lex keep his own counsel, opening the windows a bit to absorb the world through his skin. 

They stop for meals at mom and pop diners where no one cooks like his mom, and the pop is usually half flat. Once, there was a waitress who wore her foot tall beehive without a hint of kitsch or irony. 

Clark tells Lex there's probably no point in ordering steak in these places, but Lex doesn't listen. He watches as Lex saws his way through a 'sirloin special' - a misnomer if anything --, hands poised to grab the knife in a flash, should Lex's fingers slip. 

They pull over for the night at a motel that looks fairly clean, even to Clark's discerning eye. Normally they would have driven through, but Lex doesn't like to be confined for more than a few hours at a time, so Clark has been giving them ample time to stretch their legs and walk around. He palms Lex's proffered credit card, and while he's not looking, gives the gum chewing college student a wad of small bills, earned over weeks of chores for the neighbors. 

The room they're given has two full size beds, and Clark places their bags separately on each of them, not wanting to presume. 

Lex doesn't say anything, just peels off the spread on the bed on the left, and gets in. "Sorry about the thread count," Clark tells him. "I know you're used to nicer beds." 

"Clark, I've slept on metal slabs. Slightly rough cotton feels like silk to me now." 

Clark flinches at this. The thought of the month Lex spent in such discomfort (even without the torture Clark knows he endured) makes him sick at heart. 

Lex lays soldier still, as if someone will come to punish him for the transgression of restlessness or dreaming. Clark listens as he finally slides into sleep, wanting to hold him, but not wanting anything to make him feel weak. He's long since slipped into even breathing by the time Clark falls asleep. 

Lex wakes him up around seven, half dressed and eager to get on the road again. The familiar feel of Lex's hand on his shoulder makes Clark want to pull him down for a kiss, and his shower damp scent entices him to do more. He does neither, just yawns and stretches and heads for the bathroom himself. 

Taking longer in the shower than is strictly necessary for cleanliness purposes - cold water does nothing for him in this regard - Clark thinks about the Lex he lost, but hopes to rediscover on this trip. The slightly rusting showerhead is nowhere near as appealing as the multiple massage heads in Lex's room sized shower. And Clark's own hand moving over his flesh from nipples to cock was nothing like the memory of Lex, doing the same thing to him on a Saturday morning, after Clark had keyed himself in through the gate with his secret code. It's all so perfunctory, this time, just a release of tension, not an expression of love, the way it always was with Lex. He stifles the sound of Lex's name when he comes, and pretends that the now cracked towel bar was that way before. He figures no one will notice. 

It's early afternoon when they arrive at their destination. The sky is a pale blue, like most of the sunlight has been leached from the day. The ground at the cabin is hard, but dry. The last snowfall melted several weeks ago, according to the cabin owner Clark spoke with when he called to ask about the weather, and small shoots of brave greenery are making their way through the earth. It's very early spring, and Clark hopes for more signs of renewal. 

Shit. He's forgotten, there's only one bed in this place. That hadn't been an issue when he first discovered the cabin, and he wishes it wasn't now. 

Then, he had anticipated Lex sleekly naked in his arms, fire-warm despite the chilled air outside. Not a soul around to hear them, as he woke Lex up slowly with the smooth touches he liked; eliciting yawns that turned into moans. Lex responding with cool hands stroking soothing patterns on Clark's too hot skin. Lex's cock even hotter as it pressed inside of him. 

Now he brings his mother's worn-soft cotton quilt in from the car, and hopes Lex won't mind sharing the bed. He'll offer to sleep on the floor if he has to. He just wants Lex to have the comfort he needs, Clark's own desires be damned. 

They're walking, exploring the grounds. Lex is impressed by the surroundings. Clearly he'd been expecting something much worse. Twelve wooded acres, and a lake flank the cabin, though Clark doesn't imagine they'll see much of it beyond the immediate vicinity. 

The grounds are lovely, and usually empty, the cabin is only occupied during the late spring and summer months. Clark explains how he made arrangements to trade upkeep on the place (ridiculously easy with his abilities) for the opportunity to use it. He hasn't disabused the owner of the notion he's a local boy. 

Despite Clark's phone calls for preparation, the cabin isn't as well equipped as he'd like.They need firewood, and Lex insists on helping. It soon becomes clear what a phenomenally bad idea this is. "My hands were bleeding," Lex says, as he picks up an axe. He stands stock still for a moment, then lets the blade fly. "In Belle Reve." 

This isn't the first flash of asylum memory Lex has gotten on this trip. When they scanned past a classical music station in the car, Lex blurted "There was a man in the asylum with me from Alaska. He played the violin so beautifully that the man he'd once tried to kill begged for his release just so he could hear him play again." 

He's holding the axe wrong, Clark wants to tell him, but he doesn't. He watches as Lex takes angry slashes at the dead tree's branches. "They were bleeding, and I couldn't touch them. Couldn't do anything but look up. Count the lights on the ceiling. I think I hated you then." 

"God, Lex, no." Clark starts. He wants to apologize, again, though Lex has never let him. "I'm sorry. I couldn't - I wanted --. I didn't want you to be in there. 

"It's all right, Clark. I couldn't really hate you. I loved you. I think I always have. I was trying to get to you, since you couldn't get to me. And I don't blame you." 

"You should, Lex. I do. I was so scared." Clark takes the axe from Lex's hand and starts chopping out his anger, arm moving faster than humanly possible, knowing Lex can see everything. 

"I wasn't wrong, was I?" Lex asks in wonderment. "You _aren_ ' _t_ human. And you _do_ love me." 

He doesn't deny it - any of it. "God, Lex. I'm so sorry. I wanted to tell you everything. I've always wanted to. I should never have listened to my parents, not about this." 

"You came through in the end, though. That's what matters. And . sons always want to believe in their fathers. At least you've always had reason to do so. Besides, you're here now, even though I'm not. Not all of me. It's weird. I know there are pieces still missing, but I'm not sure what they are. I'm sorry Clark. I want to remember everything. 

"No, you don't, Lex. Trust me." Clark bites his tongue as soon as the words come out. How could Lex possibly trust him now? 

"But don't you see, Clark? That's the problem. I can't separate it. I have to remember what happened in there, if I want to remember _us_. We have a destiny together, but I don't know what it is. I want to, Clark. But I think it's going to take some time." 

"We have all the time in the word, Lex. Don't worry about that. I promise, I'll never leave you," Clark says, and means it. But he wonders if he'll ever get Lex back. 

He waits for Lex to ask him more questions, demand answers to buoy up his failing memory and satisfy his curiosity about Clark. But for the moment Lex seems to be content to watch him without saying anything. 

He just observes everything Clark does with a nearly scientific scrutiny, like it's something miraculous, or at least something new to him. Clark supposes at the least, the latter is true. 

It makes Clark feel like one of the ants in the ant farm his father bought for him when he was seven, though the green plastic tractor in it bore little resemblance to the farm equipment he knew. 

Later on, the connection between the insects and himself became clear. The ants, stronger than they should be for their size, were ripped from their natural habitat and airmailed to Kansas, then stuck between layers of plastic. His own situation: easily as likely to be trapped and observed, and more powerful physically than six normal guys his size, was creepily similar. 

He hadn't liked the ant farm, and felt little remorse for setting the captives free the day after he got it. He knew his father had been trying to teach him about science and industry: the hard working ant, the importance of teamwork, but he came away with a very different lesson in mind. Now he knew why. 

Needing to get away from that intense gaze, if only for a moment, Clark excuses himself to go unload the rest of the car. He carries in Lex's expensive suitcase, the AJL monogram glowing like a sign of the person Lex used to be, and his own well worn duffel, and places them both on the bed. It's huge and sturdy, easily taking up two thirds of the room, and Clark wishes they were going to make more athletic use of it. 

He won't mention that to Lex, though. Lex thinks they're just good friends, and doesn't seem to remember how much more they are than that. It isn't up to Clark to tell him. Clark wonders how long it will take before he's satisfied with that. If only he could erase his own selected memories the way Lionel and his rats tried to destroy Lex's. 

The cabin is genuinely rustic, and Clark tells Lex not to walk around barefoot on the rough wood floor. There's a multi-colored rag rug by the fireplace, but it doesn't cover all the space. "You'll get splinters," he says, feeling like his mother. Of course she had long since stopped telling him things like that, knowing how impervious he was to injury. Mostly she warned him if he seemed to be about to do something 'off' in front of someone else, a rarity now that he knew better. 

Lex laughs with little humor as he takes off his oxblood leather Rockports and thermal socks. He hops up on one foot, showing him a sole criss-crossed with little cuts and scars from his escape attempt at Belle Reve. "That's really not a huge concern, Clark. But thank you." 

Clark flinches at the sight. More signs that Lex is marked by Clark's transgressions. He can trace the patterns of injury on Lex's body like a map of the island group Lex was lost in. 

"God, Lex, I'm so sorry. I wish I could fix it. It must hurt dreadfully." He wants to scoop Lex up in his arms, and carry him until he's healed - until they're both healed, but he doesn't know how Lex would take that now. Instead he says, "Why don't you go get comfortable, and I'll see about food.. We've got more than enough wood." Lex gives him an odd look at that. "I'll, um, put the fire on," Clark continues. Lex just nods. 

Clark starts the fire with an eye flash while Lex isn't looking. He'll explain later, if Lex wants, but he'd just assume get things cooking without questions. His mother had packed a week's worth of his and Lex's favorite comfort foods, hoping to get Lex eating heartily again. His appetite since Belle Reve has been sporadic, at best. "Things don't taste right," he'd said. 

Clark decides to start Lex off with cream of chicken soup and some grilled cheese sandwiches. Simple fare, but the soup is fortified with organic vegetables from the Kent's garden, and he knows Lex used to love it. For dessert he slices some tart apples. Lex likes them better than the sweet ones for eating straight. 

He lays out the stoneware he grabbed from his mother's kitchen (Lex would never want to eat on plastic, and his own china is too fragile to risk on a car trip like this), and places the silverware on the table as well. He's sorry there isn't something to use as a centerpiece. Lex's tables always have a little extra, something he'd never noticed before, but Lex made him aware. He didn't think Lex had any kindnesses for months, much less the little niceties like flowers on a table. 

He can hear Lex puttering around with the luggage when he remembers to call home. He hadn't really asked if he could go, just told them they were going. They weren't thrilled, but seemed to understand, especially his mother. She'd finally stopped trying to throw him at Lana, when it became obvious she wasn't ready to take him back. Not that he wanted her anyway, though he still felt awful for what had happened. The fact that Lex seems to want just his friendship now probably has a lot to do with his parents changed attitude. That sucks, but he isn't going to complain if it gets him more time with Lex - time he plans to spend helping Lex remember the way they used to be. 

His mother answers the phone on the first ring. She's always had a bit of a psychic phone thing. Not that she can predict the future, but she _knows_ when someone's going to call. "It's a mom thing," she says. 

"I'm fine, Mom. Yes, I drove under the limit. And wore my seatbelt. And so did Lex. No, he didn't drive. Yes, Mom, I'm being careful. Tell Dad I'm okay. I've gotta go. I'll call you tomorrow. Love you, too." 

He didn't notice Lex approaching until his raspy voice was in his ear. "Oh, yeah, Lex says hi, too. Okay." He handed the phone to him. 

"Thank you, Mrs Kent. All right, Martha." Clark could see Lex smiling at whatever his mother had said. Lex handed the phone back. "What did you tell him, Mom?" 

Lex interjected. "She said for me to take good care of you." Clark grinned. His mom knew just what to say. He hung up the phone, feeling better about things all around. 

"C'mon, Lex. Lunch will get cold." He waits for Lex to sit, then takes the opposite chair, pouring them both lemonade. 

"S'Good," Lex says, already digging in. Clark can't help grinning at the unlikely sight. He just stops himself from reaching across the table to wipe a bit of soup off the side of Lex's mouth. 

"Oh, do you want me to put on some music? I brought the CD player." Clark asks. 

"No, I like the silence," Lex says. And really, it's not that quiet. Clark can hear the sounds of the forest around them, and he knows Lex can too. It's well within normal hearing range. "Anyway, I thought we could talk." 

Clark steels himself for this. "I thought you might want to. Can I ask you something, first?" 

"Of course. Anything." Lex looks reassuringly at him, and immediately he feels better. 

"You know I feel at least partially responsible for what happened to you, right?" 

"I told you, Clark. It wasn't your fault." No matter how many times Clark hears this, he knows the truth. 

"I know you did. But I also know how I feel. Anyway, I told myself I wasn't going to be a party to you not knowing the whole truth. I was never going to lie to you again, even if people thought it was the safest thing. You're too important to me not to tell you everything you want to know." 

"There are so many holes, Clark. I just want to fill them." Lex's entreaty breaks Clark's heart. 

"I know, Lex. And I want to help. I'll tell you anything you want to know. Just, well - if it's about the stuff you saw ---" 

"Clark, you don't have to worry. I'll keep your secret. I'm sure I always have." 

"Well, you said you would when I saw you at Belle Reve, but really, you didn't know everything. Not for sure." 

"I must have had some idea. I've got snippets. Images in my mind that _can_ ' _t_ be normal. I need to know if they're things I've imagined or not." 

"All right." Clark waits for the questions. 

"I remember I couldn't breathe, and then I was - flying, somehow. And you kissed me, and I tasted water, and it was like everything was all right again. And I remember thinking: who is this amazing boy? I think - I think there was a car. I'd crashed it or you had or someone had hit you. Do you know what I'm talking about? Do you remember?" 

Clark paused for courage. "Yes, Lex, I do. It was how we met." 

"Tell me. I need to know." 

"I was standing on this bridge, over the river that runs through Smallville. I was feeling sorry for myself. Very teenagery, you know. Had some thinking to do, and wasn't really paying attention to anything around me." 

"I'm sorry. I wish I had known you so I could try and help. But where do I come in?" 

"I'm getting to that. There was a truck, and it dropped a big roll of barbed wire off the back. And you were there in your Porsche, only you weren't paying much attention either. I think you had a phone call, and you were speeding. Only the wire rolled in front of you, and you crashed. Right into me and over the bridge." 

"I drove you over a _bridge_? And you lived. Of course you did." 

"See, that's the weird thing. I've always been strong, but this was so much more than that. I found myself under water, and I could see you, stuck in your car. I didn't think, I just acted. Couldn't get the door open, so I just - opened the top. Like a big can of sardines. Scooped you up and got you out of there. Next thing I know we were on the river bank, and I was giving you mouth to mouth." 

"The kiss of life." 

"Yes." Clark would never forget that. They always thought of it as their first kiss, though it certainly hadn't been pleasant. It was definitely meaningful. He didn't tell Lex this. The relationship that built from that day wasn't something Lex had asked about, and Clark wasn't quite ready to volunteer the information. If anything was going to happen between them again, it had to be because Lex wanted it. Not because he thought he _should_. 

"And that's how I knew you were special." Lex says, as if it's a matter of fact. "Did I try to make it up to you?" 

"The next day, you bought me a truck. My father made me return it to you." 

"I sent you a funny note, I think. I remember, a little." 

"The maniac -" Clark starts 

"In the Porsche." Lex finishes, another memory coming back to him. "I guess your dad thought it was a little weird." 

"Yeah, a fruit basket might have been a little more appropriate. A video game. A thank you note. I'm sure Hallmark makes 'Thank you for saving my life' cards." 

They both laughed at that, breaking the tension that had built up between them. No matter how much Clark wanted to come clean with Lex, this was not easy. "It's your secret, Clark, tell and they'll take you away" had been permanently ingrained in him. He told the annoying voice in his head to shut the hell up. 

Over the next several hours, he told Lex more about the first few times they talked. The memories Lex had were confused at best, and he wanted details on everything he did remember. He thought he'd dreamt about Clark on the cross, which he may well have, God knows Clark still dreamt about it. Clark told him about the reality of the scarecrow incident, and how Lex had found him, and rescued him like he had done for Lex. 

Only, this time, it was different. Clark no longer had to lie, cover up for the unexplainable aspects of their interactions. He didn't exactly come right out and say he was an alien, but he didn't deny his difference. 

Lex doesn't ask outright, and Clark assumes he thinks he's just another "meteor mutant." That's fine with him, he's not sure he's up to explaining the whole Krypton thing, just yet. In fact, he'd just as soon not have to tell Lex it's his fault he's bald, and Lana's parents are dead. He doesn't think Lex will take that quite so well. 

"This is probably a lot to take in all at once," he tells Lex. Why don't we take a break? We could play a game, or something. Go to the lake, maybe." 

"Well, all right. There's so much more I want to know about you, about us. But it can wait. I can see how all this _truth telling_ could be overwhelming." Lex's voice is a little bit bitter, but he apologizes after. "I really do, appreciate it, Clark. I guess we had some issues, didn't we?" 

"Yeah, you could say that. But not any more, I promise." 

Lex sets up the old Scrabble game they found in one of the dresser drawers. The tiles have been used so often the color is faded. 

For all of Lex's supposedly diminished capacity, his killer vocabulary isn't affected. Clark still can't come close to beating him. Lex gets ZYGOTE on a triple word score and Clark just about throws in the towel. Still, it's nice to see Lex excited about something fun. He's acting almost like his old self for a while. 

They spend the rest of the day relaxing, playing games, and talking about everything and nothing. Clark answers every question Lex asks, from the most mundane, "So, what is it with your father and those platitudes?" to "Just how fast _are_ you, anyway?" 

Dinner is a casual affair, a pot of stew Clark's mother prepared, reheated in the oven. Lex says it's delicious, and eats two bowls full. Clark has three. 

Still recuperating, Lex tires early and there are no city lights to keep them up. They turn the bedclothes down, and get in. Clark apologizing for the one bed. Lex doesn't seem to mind. In fact, he moves in closer to Clark as the night progresses. 

It is cold, but Clark thinks Lex wants the comfort as well as the warmth. God knows he does, too. He falls asleep happier than he's been in months. 

* * *

Clark is dreaming. He's home in his own twin bed in Smallville. He knows it's a dream because Lex is there, slowly peeling off his plaid flannel pajama bottoms and red t-shirt. Dream Lex kisses him, and slides down between Clark's spread thighs, slowly. He wraps a slim hand around Clark's rapidly growing erection, and strokes him the way he knows Clark likes best. 

Clark's dreams have never been this vivid. Lex is moving lower, stripping off his own silk boxers, revealing the pale expanse of skin Clark wants to touch all over. He's beautiful. Clark opens his eyes when he feels Lex's mouth close around the head of his cock. His real cock. This is no dream. Lex really is bent over him, one hand wrapped around the base, the other softly stroking his thighs. Shit. He knows he should tell Lex to stop, that he doesn't know what he's doing. Obviously it's some part of his brain that still thinks they're together. Blow job by rote. But damn it, it feels so good, and he's only human - or, well, not. 

By the time he makes up his mind to stop him, it's too late. Lex swallows like it's something he's wanted to do forever. Clark feels wonderful and awful all at once. 

"Was that all right?" Lex asks, blushing slightly, and nervously fiddling with the blanket, the only sign now that he's not the confident man Clark knew. Lex does not blush. Clark himself goes red at the drop of an off-color joke, but Lex always stays cool. Or at least he did. 

"It was amazing. But you didn't have to - I never asked - wow." Still recovering, Clark is nowhere near coherent. Coming that hard makes him _feel_ like a 'big, dumb alien.' (He'd wanted to kill Pete for coming up with that nickname, after a particularly bone-headed move in his pursuit of Lana. If Pete only knew...) 

"You were moaning my name in your sleep. I took a chance that we might have... was I wrong?" Lex starts to climb off of him, but Clark pulls him back, settling Lex on top of him until they fit together perfectly. 

"No, you were absolutely right. I just didn't want to presume." Lex stretches, all feline grace and power, and makes himself comfortable. Clark reaches up to kiss him softly, no urgency now, just sweetness. It feels right; in a way things haven't felt for months. 

"I've been wanting this ever since I got home. I just didn't know if I'd imagined it all, or if it was memory." Lex smiles at him, and it's like he's back. Clark knows they have a long, long way to go before that's completely true, but now he feels like it's a possibility. 

"It's real. _We_ ' _re_ real." 

"Yes, we are," Lex says. 

It's something to count on. 


End file.
